I would go myself but that, as I am a priest, it might be painful to her to learn of his tragic end from one of the very men against whom the poor darkened youth had drawn the sword.

So do you go, Sister, and treat the poor soul very tenderly; and if you find it suitable show her very gently that there is One who has balm for every wound, and that we--we and all who believe in Him--lose what is dear to us only to find it again.

Tell her of hope: Hope is everything.

They say that green is the color of hope, for it is the spring-tide of the heart.

There may be a Spring for her yet." The deaconess rose, pressed a kiss on the eyes of the dead youth, promised Eusebius that she would do her best and went away.